


Mad Blood Stirring

by addictedkitten



Category: Alias
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-10
Updated: 2005-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedkitten/pseuds/addictedkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Help.  Yes.  That was what she needed.  (Post-ep for Nocturne.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mad Blood Stirring

"Sydney, it's okay," Vaughn said. "We'll get you the help you need."

Sydney nodded. Help. Yes. That was what she needed. 

"You're going to be fine." Vaughn placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm lying." His mouth wavered. "You'll die, after you kill us all. After you kill your father, after you kill me. There's something wrong with you. Something wrong _in_ you, that isn't the virus. You're sick, Sydney. Sick."

"I'm not." She blinked, and she wasn't listening to Vaughn anymore. Vaughn wasn’t there. It was-

"You are sick, Sydney," Sark smiled, running a finger down her cheek. "All these sick desires you hide from everyone. From your friends, from Vaughn. Would they still love you, if they had any idea? The things you think would make poor Agent Vaughn blush, making him loosen his tie and leave the room just to get away from you. The wicked things you want to do to him. The things you want him to do to you. He would certainly leave you, if he knew. If you dragged him off in the middle of a mission and sucked him off in the middle of a club, or pushed him to his knees and made him do the same to you. If you climbed on top of him in the middle of his office, had him on his desk. How horrified he would be. And you'd like that too, you'd like him being a little terrified of you. As he should be."

"I need to go," Sydney said.

"We have to leave soon," Vaughn said, concerned, and it was him again, just Vaughn. Just Vaughn.

"Bathroom," Sydney said. She stood up unsteadily. Her thighs felt raw, oversensitive, too warm in her jeans. Too much stimulation, and she needed _more_.

More, yeah, and she was shaking, the bathroom door snapping shut behind her and shuddering a little as she backed up against it. One hand worked at her jeans, unbuttoning while she pressed her palm to her forehead, trying to force the images away and hold onto them at the same time. 

It didn't matter, Vaughn would never do those things because she'd never ask him. He wouldn't understand. She pushed a hand inside her jeans. Wet, already, and desperate; she tugged lightly at the dark curls between her thighs before moving inward, stroking her clit between two fingers, just a little pressure and yes, there. There. 

She loved Vaughn, she did, she didn't know how not to love him. He was kind and good and sweet and he loved her, but he couldn’t be what she wanted, because Sark was- no, stop, don't, Sydney-

She braced herself against the door, biting her lip and moving her hand a little faster. Sark, lying to her, all those terrible things he said. He would do those things, she knew, he would do anything she asked him to because he wanted her, no trappings of love or faith or caring, just lust, fascination. He would back her up against a building, adrenalin still racing after a mission, and push his head between her thighs, lick up and into the center of her until she was gasping, trembling, tangling her fingers into his blond hair. And she would hold him there until he satisfied her, dig her nails into his pale skin and keep him there until he'd brought her off again, and again, and again until she could barely stand, until his jaw ached and he begged her to satisfy him in turn. And then maybe, maybe she would let him fuck her against the wall.

Sydney closed her eyes, her head thumping against the bathroom door. Yeah, she'd let Sark fuck her, hold her there and scrape up the back of whatever ludicrous costume they'd put her in, destroying her dress against the brick as she dug her nails into Sark's back, drawing out blood and secrets and lies and everything in him that made him so damn cold-hearted, but he'd be hot against her, inside her, and he'd fuck her harder than Vaughn was ever willing to. 

So close now, and all Sydney's blood had rushed to the surface of her skin, hot and wild. She spread her legs wider, one finger thrusting inside as she ground against the palm of her hand, wet, frantic, and needing this, oh god, needing this so fucking badly. 

Pushing against her hand, once, twice, as rough as she could bear and she was coming, her eyes shut so tightly she saw stars, which was better than seeing Sark, cruel mouth smiling at her, knowing that everything he said was true. Harder, a little harder and she was shuddering into another climax, grinding mercilessly into her own hand. She sagged against the door, gasping as her heart rate slowed, though not quite to normal. They had to go soon. Vaughn would be waiting for her. 

"Syd? You okay?" Vaughn's voice came through the door, startling her a little. 

No, actually, she really wasn't okay. "I'm fine, I'm just washing my hands!" When she walked out, he was waiting. 

"The car's here. Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Vaughn asked as they made for the front door.

"We need to get that antidote soon," Sydney said, and pushed past him, out into the cool night air.


End file.
